


Power Play

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Determination, F/F, F/M, Female Reader, Gen, Mentions of Phycological Abuse, Monster/Human reader, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2018-10-17 00:17:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10582458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: You were abandoned on Mt. Ebbot by your mother. Naturally, you fell into the Underground like every child before you. There, you were saved by a mysterious voice who grants you incredible powers... As well as a strange new appearance.What's your purpose in this underground hell? What does it have to do with a murderous, abusive, and narcissistic skeleton?Inspired by several musicals especially Heathers.





	1. California Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> What? Why aren't I working on 'Will you remember me?'  
> Well, I haven't given up on it, I just needed a little break... And this story... It has a whole plot already set up for it, and I've been wanting to write forever!  
> Where, "Will you remember me?" Is more fluff that I write when I wanna.
> 
> (Wait. Do all these lines start with 'w'?)
> 
> But, also: Holy crud this is a long chapter for me!

The icy winds stung your eyes as you trudged through the snow. Your pair of flimsy shoes and your thin sweater did nothing to combat the cold, so you could feel it racing against your skin like a million tiny razor blades. Every breath was labored and painful as you sucked in the ice cold air.

'How the hell do storms even work underground?' You wondered silently, trying to take your mind off of the bitter cold you felt, 'Why would they want a snow storm anyways? To freeze to death all the humans who wandered out of the Ruins, maybe? Either way, it sucks and I'm cold.'

On both sides of the path, huge dead trees loomed like dark giants, glaring at you with knot eyes and ragged smiles. Their disturbing looks made it easy to focus on the barely visible path under the snow, and the cold numbness if your body. You wistfully reminded yourself that if you had only stayed with Toriel you would probably be eating fresh pie or reading by a warm fire with two people who seemed to really care about you.

Hell, leaving Toriel's home was a horrible idea.

You had quickly lost sensation in your toes and fingertips, and your hands were red and sore from the many times you had to pick yourself up from the snow. You knew it was only a matter of time before your body would be so completely numb, and the cold so unbearable, you would collapse and not have any strength left to rise. You would die and no one would ever know what happened to you, nor would they care. The thought terrified you.

A tiny voice whispered in your head, the voice of your Savior and friend. "... Please. Don't say that, ____. You can't give up, ____, you just can't. I'm trying the best I can to sustain us, but you need to believe we'll make it! Otherwise..." He trailed off, "I don't even want to think about what will happen!"

"I know," you reassured him, closing your eyes and hugging your waist, "I would have given up a long time ago if I didn't know what was at stake."

Determination flooded through your shared soul and you took another step. And promptly tripped. The force of your body hitting the permafrost under the bitterly cold snow temporarily winded you, and you were left wet and cold, trying to catch your breath.

"____? Are you ok?"  
You again heard your friend, but shrugged him off, not wanting to bother him, "Ya. Something just tripped me. Don't worry, ok?"

You shakily stood, looking back at what had tripped you. It was a big sturdy stick which had likely fallen from one of the dead trees that lined the path. You moved back, intending to pick it up as a bit of defence, but it was too heavy for your exhausted muscles to lift, so you moved on.  
Your friend was quiet, but you knew it was simply because he was tired too. You really worried about him sometimes, even more so than he worried about you. He had yet to tell you what had made him so driven in his goals, and with no mention of his past, everything about him was an enigma; even his name, Flowey. It was a funny name, but you respected it, wondering if maybe his name had something to do with his past. But you wouldn't pry until he was comfortable sharing, or at least until you were both safe.

You looked ahead, but the snow and wind biting at your face made it difficult to see anything. What you could see was a strange wooden frame, (perhaps a gate?) over what appeared to be a small bridge, but beyond that, you couldn't see squat. You began moving again, not wanting to waste any more time freezing your butt off in this storm. There was a snap from behind you, and you could feel the lick of flames catching at your fingertips, ready to defend yourself.

But when you turned, no one was there.

Instead, the giant stick was broken in two, like it had been nothing. You shivered again, but only fear was to blame. Mind racing, you began to think of all the possibilities. Was it a giant monster? A ghost? Or maybe the sentries that Toriel told you watched the door? It really didn't matter what the cause was because you weren't going to wait and find out.

The feeling of eyes in your back made you realize that you might find out anyways. Heart racing, you dared not look back and began walking swiftly against the high winds. Flowey began to speak to you so rapidly you could hardly hear a word, but the word you latched onto, the only one you could make out, was 'run'.

Sprinting with the last of your strength, you rushed toward the bridge with abandon. Adrenaline pumped through your blood, and you could no longer feel the cold, but each stride felt slower and slower the closer you got to it. Something, something that was beyond your control held you back, stopping just at the edge of the bridge, just at the edge of escape.

Flowey was frantic now, but you could understand every word perfectly, "____! What's going on?! Why did we stop? We can't stop, someone is right behind us, can't you feel it? We can't give up! Please, ____ you can't give up! ____!"  
You wanted to comfort him, tell him you were going to be fine, but you'd be lying.

You were breathing hard, petrified in more way than one. It hit you hard that death might be just around the corner, and like the icy winds whipping all around you, death would be swift and bitter. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks, your hope diminishing like a tiny snowflake on a child's tongue.

"____... Please. We need to try. Please..."

His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was all you needed to hear. You clenched your teeth. And moved. You screamed, something obviously very wrong, and slowly your vision slipped away, turning to pure blackness. Flowey's voice, so scared and confused was all that you could hear, but even that became so distorted it sounded like the buzz of an old radio. Then absolute silence.

•••

Sans was honestly puzzled when he saw the door to the ruins finally open. He had expected a human to come through, but what he got was something else entirely.

Sure, you dressed like a human, with a dark purple and white stripped sweater, but that was as far as the similarities went. With long white hair that hung down to your waist, a set of sharp-looking horns protruding from either side of your forehead, bright ruddy brown eyes, and pale white human skin, you were the spitting image of an anomaly.

But, no matter what you were, it was funny to watch you struggling through the snow storm in a pair of flimsy sandals, while your thin human clothes, not meant for the blustery weather, only became less effective in keeping you warm. Your expression grew only more dreary every time you fell.

Most peculiar about you, was your tendency to reassure yourself that you were going to be fine, that you would make it through. And he'd had to laugh at it because even if you did make it to the bridge, you'd have to answer to him, and he would make his first, perhaps even final, judgement on your soul.

And then you tripped. Sans laughed, but with the wind whistling so loudly in his own ears, he doubted you heard him. Surprisingly, you managed to stand back up after a moment, but still breathless from your fall. You again spoke to yourself, but now it sounded more like speaking to another person. Heh. Maybe you had become delusional after wandering so long, and it wasn't like it couldn't happen.

Sans snickered, a horrible idea forming in his mind. It was time to play a little cat and mouse and see exactly how much determination she had to live. He formed a large bone with his magic and thrust it into the middle of the large stick, and with a loud snap, it broke in two.

Snapping your head back, your eyes were wide and fearful, but Sans was nowhere to be seen. You retained your frightened expression, as you began to walk away. He gruffly laughed, following you quietly through the snow. You began to hurriedly walk against the wind, then, when you had noticed him following you, you set off in a dead sprint toward the bridge.

You were fast, but he had yet to find a monster or human who could resist his blue attack. You gradually slowed, reaching a dead stop at the foot of the bridge. Your face was contorted in an awful expression of fear and pain, while you began to silently sob. You knew it was the end of the road.

Then something flashed in your eyes, like the flip of a switch, something changed in you. You took a staggering step, resisting his magic. Sans' eye sockets grew wide. You were so determined to move that you were literally forcing your body away from your soul. He knew he had to stop you before you could do any more damage. But your body understood that far before he could reach you, what you were doing was wrong. You let out a painful scream, and shakily with an abrupt finish, you collapsed back into your soul, the only thing keeping you standing was Sans' magic.

Sans quickly shortcut to you, inspecting the damage. But it wasn't damaged, at least not by the stunt you pulled. It was a red soul of determination, flipped upside down like a monster's with a softly humming white outline that reached down into a crack down the middle of your soul. It was fractured in other places as well, but those appeared to be a completely different incident.

It was then at Sans became truly curious. What the hell were you?

Sans only knew one monster who might know, well at least one who wouldn't kill him if he asked, so without a second thought he short cut to Grillby’s.


	2. Master of the House

When you finally came to, you were very uncomfortable, but also very warm. You lazily opened one eye to scan your surroundings, and you found yourself in some sort of storage room. You noticed that whoever had found you had smartly stacked boxes in front of your spot as to hide you from anyone who might walk in.

Back cracking as you sat up, you noted the soft blanket that had been placed over you, as well as the makeshift bed of pillows and several other blankets beneath you. 'Well. They at least tried to make me feel comfortable,' you thought, 'but these pillows are really... Flat. Lumpy? Whatever it's called.' You rolled your shoulders, which was most the sore spot on your body, and with it, you took a good breath of the stuffy storage room air.

The smell of burgers and fries permeated from behind the door, reminding you that you are only human and eating in a necessity. Actually, you weren't even sure what meal time it was closest to at the moment, when you last ate you were back at Toriel's. You hopped to your feet, blanket tumbling to the ground, and made your way toward the door, intent on finding some grub.

"____? What are you doing?"

Stopped in your tracks, you practically jumped at Flowey's voice. It took you a good moment to recover before you were breathing normally.

"Uh... ____, are you ok?"

"Sorry, Flowey. I-" You paused, mulling over your words, "I'm still not used to being... Uh, whatever it is we are. And I was going to see where we are and maybe see if I could get some food."

You could practically see Flowey glaring at you disapprovingly as he replied in an uncharacteristically sarcastic voice, "Uh huh. Because waltzing into a monster bar is totally safe. Seriously, ____, you need to be more careful. Maybe Toriel was... okay, but remember the other monsters in the ruins? They all wanted to kill you. Golly, even Toriel was borderline murderous when you asked to leave. And I don't think it's much different here."

Like a child denied a new toy, you dejectedly apologised, however something Flowey said didn't quite line up with what you knew.

"It's a bar? How do you know?"

Suddenly Flowey got very defensive in his tone. "H-How could you not? I, uh, golly, I have no idea why you'd think someplace like this that's so full of, uh, alcohol, is not a bar!"

Furrowing your eyebrows, you turned to see that indeed, the room was stocked with various alcoholic beverages. Because of this, you were unsure why Flowey sounded so nervous when he defended his reasoning like you would refute it even though it made complete sense. You felt honestly kind of stupid, and just let it go, as there was no use fighting with someone who literally depended on your well being.

"O-oh. Um. Well, uh, what do you think we should do then?" Flowey had already been thinking, replying a near second later.

"Well. They've got to have some sort of other door, don't cha think? For bringing in supplies from the outside. I bet if we go further back we'll find a door to the outside. And, um, even if there isn't it won't hurt to check!" You nodded, beginning to explore the room, but not before picking up the fallen blanket from the floor and tying the ends together around your neck so that it hung on you like a cape. It wouldn't hurt to bring a bit of extra warmth if you managed to get outside again.

Your stomach growled at you disapprovingly as you walked further away from the smell of food, and your skin was covered with goosebumps far before you even knew if you'd find a way outside.

Somehow, your goosebumps predicted the future to come, when you came upon the door just barely visible behind another wall of boxes. You almost felt proud of yourself. But in all honesty, if Flowey hadn't pointed it out you might have missed it.

As you stepped out into the cold, you were careful to close the door quietly, so as to not alert anyone to your presence. In the time you had been asleep, it seemed, the storm had died down, but the air was still frigid. The blanket, serving as a cape, was warm as you pulled its edges together around your body. You took a few steps into the snow…

You weren't wearing shoes. 

Like you were stepping on hot coals, you quickly hopped back to the door and jiggled the doorknob, only to find the door had locked. You groaned, alternating between each foot you stood upon, trying the door, again and again, frustrated you hadn't noticed your bare-footedness earlier.

Flowey was quietly chuckling, mockingly asking you how you managed to forget your shoes, but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of an answer, and instead searched around for some sort of stick or something to open the door with.

But to hell with your luck, because in the next moment, you realised you weren't alone.  
"You know, trying to break into Grillby's is really a bad idea, eh girly?" You whipped your head around to meet a pair of sharp icy eyes, and the evilest grin you had ever seen.

Behind the owner of those eyes, several more dark and shadowy figures gathered. Your eyes flashed with fear, and you began to stutter intelligently, to which they all laughed. You were terrified, but Flowey was strangely silent, leaving you with no clue what to do, but summon a bit of fire magic in case you needed to protect yourself.

"Don't even bother trying to defend yourself, girly. You're greatly out numbered; one to four to exact."

Darkly, he moved toward you, and you began to speak, desperate to buy time for Flowey to come through in this time of need. "N-no. You're wrong it's t-two to four."

They quirked an eyebrow, not believing her for a second, "Huh. Is that so? Well? Where is this second person?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to come up with a reply. "He, uh," your mouth was dry, 'Flowey, where the hell are you?! I need help!'

"'He, uh,' what, girly? Lemme guess he doesn't, uh, exist," He mocked, several of his cronies chuckling at his impression of you.

"He's actually extremely pissed that you're attacking his new barmaid." Came to a voice smooth but crackling, drawing everyone's attention to the previously locked door.

A man made of literal purple flame stood by the door, and even though he had no face, his expression could only be described as pissed. You gulped back a glob of fear that had built up in your throat, but another was already forming as you watched mutely as your attackers suddenly became as helpless as you had been only a moment before.

"Uh! G-Grillby! We had no idea! We- we thought that she was b-breaking in!" The leader gasped, he and the other monsters doing a complete one-eighty, looking like they might melt if they said even a word out of line.

"Oh? Well, I had merely forgotten to give her the key. She was simply waiting for my return." He crackled, folding his arms.

They flinched at this movement, leaving you curious. 'Who is this guy? What the hell does he mean by barmaid? Flowey, if I ever hear from you again you're dead!' You broke from your thoughts as he continued.

"I don't really care for monsters who threaten my staff, even more so, family. So I strongly suggest you think twice before coming around this area. Better yet, setting foot in my bar." The leader nodded sharply, then turned tail and ran, each member of his posse following with a shared enthusiasm, plenty happy to be getting the hell out of there.

Now you were alone with Grillby. You slowly looked in his direction, to be met with a blank expression. He motioned for you to go inside as he opened the door back up, and silently you do exactly that. You notice how warm you become as you pass him back into the storage room.

Once inside, his expression is scolding, and you feel the atmosphere become very tense, "Do you have any idea what would have happened if I hadn't shown up?"

You shook your head, still mute from your encounter.

"You would have been dusted. And there would have been nothing I could have done to save you. To survive, you're going to need to understand one simple thing," he paused as you shrunk back under his cold gaze, "In this world, it's kill or be killed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, little short, but hey! I got this out fast considering I... Still have... An essay to write... Heh.


	3. Empty Chairs and Empty Tables

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! Happy Halloween!

After scaring you half to death with his ominous words, Grillby led you out of the back room into an empty bar. It still smelt deliciously of hamburgers and yummy salty fries, which made your stomach clench and grumble painfully. If Grillby had noticed, you couldn't tell. He motioned for you to wait while he walked behind the bar and through another door you assumed was to the kitchen. 

Your eyes explored the barroom while you waited for Grillby's return. It seemed like every bar you'd been drug to with your parents and their friends on the surface. Somewhat dingy, plenty of seating, and well used bar stools. But there were some differences. The place exuded a very dark and calm feeling within you, perhaps caused by the dim lighting. The bar was kept very clean and well polished, looking practically brand new aside from a few scorch marks and a large mustard stain. You wondered suddenly what Flowey would think of it. He would probably tell you to escape as quickly as possible, that time was short. And you'd agree, because he would be right. But why wasn't he? Where was he? 

Grillby returned, interrupting your thoughts with the heavenly smell of somewhat warm, leftover fries. But you couldn't have cared less if they were green and looked like wilted lettuce, you were so hungry. "For me?" You mewled, looking hungrily at the fries in his flaming hands. He nodded, setting them down on the bar. You savagely swiped a handful and shoved the fries into your mouth. Grillby grimaced in disgust, but you were too busy stuffing your face with wonderful greasy nourishment to notice. When the fries were gone you realized your terrible manners, "Thank you so much! I'm so sorry I was just really hungry– I didn't mean to be rude or anything! Thank you, thank you!" 

Completely unfazed by your outburst, Grillby had reached behind the counter and handed you a hand towel. You looked at it blankly for a moment, before noticing the mess you'd made in eating those fries. You blushed sheepishly, wiping the bits of fries from the countertop, careful not to let even a grain of salt remain. Once finished, you handed the now dirtied towel to Grillby. He quirked an eyebrow and you both stood in awkward silence, you holding the towel out to him still.

"Follow me," he said, finally breaking the silence. He turned away from you and walked back into the kitchen with you clutching the towel right behind him.

The kitchen, much like the bar was very clean, but obviously well used. You stood in the doorway, trying to figure out why Grillby had brought you there. He pointed at a bin full of used dish towels, "Put it in there."

You walked over, dropping it in, then looked back at Grillby for his next instruction. He opened a cabinet and began rifling through it. You stared around the kitchen, trying to find anything to keep you entertained. It wasn't long until Grillby found what he'd been looking for and held it out to you, saying simply, "Uniform." 

He walked straight past you out the kitchen door, "Change in the back room." 

You dumbly stood in the kitchen, clutching the 'uniform'. Where was Flowey when you needed him?

•••

Grillby knew this was risky. He didn't know who or what you were, only what Sans had told him about your soul: it was an inverted red human soul outlined in white, almost completely split in half by a large crack, held together by a white monster soul. 

You acted incredibly naive to the underground's workings, prompting him to believe you had somehow found refuge in the ruins. But even then, you appeared far too young to have fled to the ruins before it was sealed off. 

From there he knew there were only two possibilities. You were born in the ruins and your parents neglected to teach you any monster history, or the more likely, terrifying alternative; you were a human with a monster soul. While it is common belief that only monsters can absorb a human soul, it is possible for a human to absorb a monster soul, if it is a boss monster's. It was all too likely, Grillby feared, you were human who had killed the ex-queen of the underground before leaving the ruins to massacre monster kind. And in death, the monsters would be freed, just like the prophecy had predicted. An angel who had seen the surface, freeing monster kind from the underground, in life... Or in death.

He shivered at the thought. 

That is why he did not mind the risk. He needed to try to stop you if you indeed began slaughtering monsters, to try and protect the last of whatever goodness was left in the underground.

Of course, some extra help around the bar was a nice bonus.

•••

You stood in the back room, happy to be out of your damp sweater and shorts, and in the dry, warm clothes that was your 'uniform'. The uniform consisted of a light grey button up shirt, a long black skirt, and a pair of impossibly comfortable plain black heels. You wished for a moment you had a mirror to spin around in front of. 

You sighed at the impossibility of your wish, combing your pale fingers through your silky white hair. But this wasn't your hair. No, not even your skin was our own. You half wondered if you did have a mirror, you'd recognize the... Monster, staring back at you. How long ago had your hair been thick dirty blonde locks of human hair? How long ago had your skin been tan and completely covered in freckles? Your good mood dropped, and no one was there to console you. You felt so terribly alone. 

"Flowey?" You whispered softly, trying to call upon the only person you knew in this new world under the surface. But he did not reply or even give an indication he was there at all. Your eyes pricked with tears. "Flowey, please talk to me." But nobody came. 

You collapsed. Feeling so terribly, terribly alone.


End file.
